Her Skin
by LadyLyraBoleyn
Summary: Another Song-Fic for Damon/Harmony. This song is: 'My Skin' - Natalie Merchant  This was another sad one to do. If you read my story, you'll know that in 1864, Harmony was Elizabeth. This is a story if Harm had died during child-birth.


_1864 – Alternate Universe *Elizabeth is Harmony*_

There was a flurry of sounds. A rush of colors mixing together. All he knew was that Elizabeth was on her knees, blood spilling down the bottom of her nightgown. Her black hair was spilling over the side of her shoulders and down her back. Her pale hands were at the source of the bleeding, turning them red. Damon pushed his curly hair out of his face and looked at her in shock. Stefan, _St. Stefan..._Damon thought bitterly, ran to her.

_'Take a look at my body,_

_Look at my hands...'_

Elizabeth's hands were cupping as more blood spilled onto them. Her tears and sobs became wild and frantic as she asked every all of the women helping her, 'what was happening to her baby?' Stefan looked at Damon in question, as if to ask, 'why aren't you helping? This is your responsibility.' Damon couldn't watch the blood slide down Elizabeth's pale thigh.

_'There's so much here,_

_That I don't understand...' _

The elderly women helped her remove the clinging white linen nightgown, and helped the 19-year old woman to lay down. Stefan held her hand, the hand that should be in Damon's, tightly as she begged him to tell her what was going on. Damon took a look at the scene and ran outside to the night sky. He didn't see her face when he left, he didn't know that she needed to see his calm face to calm herself down.

_'Your face saving promises_

_Whispered like prayers...'_

Stefan sighed and held her hand. The older women looked at her and shook their heads. They knew it was too early for a baby to be born. She must have been dabbling in witchcraft or some other sin to miscarry a baby. Elizabeth sobs subsided, as she tried to understand the Italian. Luckily she had immigrated from Italy at 12 years old.

"Questa ragazza deve andare a puttane se stessa, o qualche altro peccato." She understood that. 'This girl must be whoring herself, or some other sin.' Elizabeth sobbed again as the pain in her abdomen struck out at her.

_'I've been treated so wrong,_

_I've been treated so long,_

_As if I'm becoming untouchable...' _

"Dio sa che, sappiamo tutti che il signor Damon Salvatore è il padre del suo bastarda illegittima." Elizabeth understood this too, as more pressure on her stomach continued to rock her small frame, her tears of hurt mixed with insult. 'God knows that, we all know that Mr Damon Salvatore is the father of her illegitimate bastard.'

_'Contempt loves the silence,_

_It thrives in the dark,_

_With fine winding tendrils,_

_That strangle the heart …'_

Damon sat on the porch of his home, his father walking out and glaring heavily at him. His heart pounded in worry, it became a rythmic beat. The brightness of the blood still surprised him, his child shouldn't be causing that much pain in Elizabeth.

_'They say that promises,_

_Sweeten the blow...'_

Damon can still taste the promises to Elizabeth as they made love in the woods, in the sunflower fields, her white linen bedroom, now stained in red. His promises of marriage that he was never going to act on, still linger in his throat. He never realized until now, how special she was to him, he thought that he was in love with Katherine, sure, but he felt the pain of loss.

_'I'm a slow dying flower,_

_Frost killing hour,_

_The sweet turning sour,_

_And untouchable...'_

Elizabeth felt her breath weaken, Stefan and the midwives heard it. He ran out to his brother, who was sitting staring off into the night. Elizabeth pushed with her soul, with her emotions, with her body, and she felt her body shut down slowly. Damon walked back into the room to see her, graying, and dying, his baby still inside.

_'O, I need,_

_The darkness,_

_The sweetness,_

_The sadness,_

_The weakness,_

_I need this...' _

He stroked the hair that clung to her face out of it. Her breath became ragged, and he bent down to kiss her on her forehead.

"I'm sorry Damon..." She said softly. Her breath finally ceased, and the bustle around the room stopped, but everyone walked into the room.

_'I need,_

_A lullaby,_

_A kiss goodnight,_

_Angel sweet,_

_Love of my life,_

_O, I need this...'_

They gathered around her body the next day. They laid her out for a viewing, her belly still big with a postponed child. Her face was so serene, that she could've been sleeping. Stefan looked at his elder brother's face, distorted with grief. Her hands were folded over her stomach, a small bouquet of roses between them.

_'Do you remember the way,_

_That you touched me before,_

_All the trembling sweetness,_

_I loved and adored?' _

They put her into the coffin, so finely carved for such an insignificant person. When everyone left, Damon remained by the gravesite, even as rain started to fall down apon the area. He refused to cry in front of anyone. But now that he was alone, or so he thought, the tears deceived him and silently fell down.

_'Is it dark enough? _

_Can you see me? _

_Do you want me? _

_Can you reach me? _

_Or I'm leaving …'_

He walked away from it, refusing to stare at the engraving on the tombstone, of a poem she had written when she first developed a crush on Damon at 16.

_'You better shut your mouth,_

_Hold your breath,_

_Kiss me now you'll catch my death,_

_O, I mean it...'_

Katherine watched him, with the detachment of someone who unknowingly lost her sister. She realized now, that he grieved not one person, but two.


End file.
